Ozorne Returns
by Stories-have-souls
Summary: For ten years, ever since the Immortals War, Tortall and its neighbours have enjoyed peace. But when Ozorne is raised from the dead, Tortall's most important inhabitatants have their lives thrown into turmoil.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

_I floated through oblivion, the darkness no longer a colour to my eyes. Darkness was my life. _

_I felt nothing, I heard nothing, I saw nothing, yet I thought. My mind was a powerful thing, unmarred by my passage into Death. _

_The Black God would not take me-no realm would, save for the Chaos Realms, and with Uusoae's imprisonment, that was impossible._

_I was a rejection of life itself, despised by all. The darkness was my only friend. Time pitied me too; it slipped past quick, but not so quick that I could not dwell on matters not laid to rest. _

_My hate, my thirst for revenge, grew. I tortured my mind with this bitter emotion, caged, unable to ignore the stings inflicted upon me all those years ago. _

_Each moment of this hell, each moment I existed, a word, a name, throbbed in my mind. _

"_Daine." _


	2. The Rising Spell

The wind moaned pitifully across the barren, dry hill, dragging its fingers through the parched grass, and whipping the faces of the two men who stood dejectedly at the hill's peak. They stood on either side of a stone altar, staring at it wistfully.

"You think he did get it?" One man slaughtered the silence.

"Of course. Yasir is very thorough." The other replied, with a thick Copper-Isle accent.

"Even then, will the Rising spell work?"

"We have waited, and prepared, long enough." The Copper Isle man said gruffly.

New sound reached the men's ears. They turned abruptly, daggers at the ready. After a moment or two, they breathed relief and sheathed their weapons.

"Yasir. You took your sweet time."

The new arrival, a cloaked figure that lurched from side to side, scowled.

"I did not expect guards, Cothus. They wounded me…" Yasir indicated to the dark stain above his waist.

"But you have them?" Cothus spared no sympathy for the man.

"Yes, yes."

"May I see them?" Cothus asked impatiently. Yasir nodded resignedly and brought forward the leather case held by his side. He brushed a finger against the lock, muttering an arcane word. The lock clicked open.

"Very thorough indeed…" Cothus murmured, as he stared at the case's contents. "They shall be sorely missed."

"Which is why we must hurry." Yasir barged past and nodded at the third man, who was silent. He carefully removed one of the objects from the case, placing it as if it were made of glass onto the stone altar. Jas, the third man, sucked in a sharp intake of breath: it was a large, pointed feather, smooth and steel-like. If there had been sun that day, the feather's surface would almost have blinded the men.

"Are-are you sure it's one of his?" Jas asked tentatively. Yasir grunted irritably.

"If I told you how much the collector paid for it, your eyes would pop out of your head, boy."

Jas nodded and lowered his eyes as an offering of respect.

Yasir grunted again and removed the second object from the case: a small shard of black glass. Jas looked at it in puzzlement.

"What's that?"

"He always wore it, when he turned to Stormwing. It came from a necklace. It's got Chaos in it, straight from Uusoae herself."

"Pure Chaos?" The boy breathed in awe. His elder nodded, and turned to Cothus.

"You are ready?" Cothus nodded, and took his place at one end of the altar, his comrade the other end. The boy stood at the altar's side, burdened with an overwhelming uneasiness.

I shouldn't have agreed to do this…can they really raise him? He thought to himself.

Yasir and Cothus called on their Gifts, mauve fire sprouting in one's hands, ochre from the other's. They closed their eyes, sending their magic forth to intermingle above the steel feather and the glass shard.

"Fallen to death, fallen to darkness," The words for their 'tampered' Rising spell began to slip into the air.

"Blood spilt, life spilt. The blood now returns." The air filled with hissing, and the magic cascaded onto the altar, swallowing up the two artefacts. The altar looked as if it were on fire, the combined gifts giving it a scarlet colour.

The boy began to shake suddenly. Yasir opened one eye and scrutinized him coldly.

"Do it, boy." He muttered. When the boy did not react, he diverted a thin thread of magic to whip him. Moved into action by the sting of Yasir's gift, the boy slowly produced his dagger and slit his left wrist, containing the whimpers of pain at the blade's bite. He brought his arm to above the altar, where the tips of the Gift flame licked him. Ignoring the pain from both the magic and his own flesh, he watched as blood trickled out of his self-made wound and onto the altar's surface. As blood mixed with magic, the words of Yasir and Cothus took on a harsh, unnatural edge.

"Take the blood that has been repaid. Reclaim what death stole."

A void of darkness, so terrifying that no light could have pierced its depths, opened upon the altar, the scarlet magic flaring at its edges. Cold beyond belief poured from it, but the intensity and concentration of the spell kept the three men from freezing.

"Leave the void you were imprisoned in, for the gate is open!" The boy, despite himself, tried to peer into the void, yelping and jumping back in fear when he sensed something within its depths, something _alive_.

"Return to the world you belong in, soul!" Yasir and Cothus' voices had become one, steel sharp and lifeless. "_RETURN!" _

The scarlet fire rose with a mighty roar, black threads of what the boy believed to be Chaos snaking into it, and all the magic plunged into the void. Some inhuman snarl sounded in the air, and suddenly the men beside it were blinded by darkness.

Slowly, very slowly, it faded. Yasir stopped panting with exhaustion and brought his gaze up. Only years of self discipline stopped him from showing his fear of the large, winged figure that stood on the altar. Remembering his place, he swooped to his feet, bowing.

"Your Mighty One, I am your loyal servant. I swear allegiance to the one I rose from the dead, as do my companions."

The Stormwing, his steel feathers gleaming, narrowed his eyes, the expression on his face unreadable. A small smile twitched into being, and he nodded.

"You shall be rewarded for the greatest achievement of any of my servants." The voice he spoke, cold and clipped, had not been heard in the world for a decade.

He turned to Cothus, who kept his head down so that his eyes would not have to look upon the Immortal he had helped to bring back to life. Already, doubts and regrets were sprouting in his mind, but if he valued his life, he would do well never to let them show.

The Stormwing lost interest in Cothus, and turned at last to the boy who backed a way a little, quivering. He did not care how much fear he showed.

"You are the one who gave his blood so that my body might be returned to me, I see." The Immortal growled, eyeing the boy's wet scar. "But, do you freely swear by oath to give me your allegiance?"

Yasir glanced up; he had no interest or worries for the boy, nevertheless, it would annoy him if the boy would be so foolish as to aggravate the Mighty One.

"I…I do…" Jas murmured, his eyes hidden beneath his lashes.

"I cannot hear you." The Stormwing snapped. At that moment, Yasir knew that the Immortal was only humouring himself; he was playing with the boy, and would soon end him.

"I swear allegiance-"

"You do not mean it!" The Stormwing cried. He rose into the air, and moved towards the boy. With outstretched arms he grabbed him by the neck and lifted him. The boy panted in shock and panic, hands futilely scrabbling at his tormentor's. His eyes rolled and his legs kicked in desperation, but the Stormwing's grip was strong and determined.

Before long, no breath could be found in the boy. His soul fled from his body, and his murderer dropped him to the ground. Yasir and Cothus had not reacted in any way to what had just occurred, and even now they remained in their bowing positions.

"Rise, my servants." The Stormwing said coolly. His servants obeyed.

"Welcome back to our world, Lord Ozorne."


	3. Only A Dream

_She was trapped in a fog of darkness, unable to move. Her child, Sarra, screamed for her, and she could not answer. She was helpless._

"_So good to see you, my dear." A cold voice knifed at her, and she quelled in fear. The Stormwing revealed himself, the fog around his filthy form fading. His smile was a twisted curve._

_She tried to scream for help, for Numair, but she was wordless. The Stormwing came gliding towards her._

"_I'd like to repay an old favour," he sneered, conjuring something in his hand._

_Daine Salmalin stared at what he had palmed: a silver badger's claw, gleaming with a warped light._

_Ozorne abandoned his malicious smile and leapt for her, the claw tucked in his grasp. In one swift, practiced motion he plunged it into her chest, tugging it upwards…_

"_NO!_" Daine cried in horror, her nightmare lifting. She brought a quivering hand to her chest, feeling for injury. She found none.

"Daine?" Numair too had been pulled from his sleep, and he turned over to her.

"Where is she? Sarra!" The wildmage jumped out of the bed, running to their daughter's cot by the window. She breathed relief to see the ten month year old child sleeping peacefully in a sea of bedding.

"Daine, what's wrong?" Numair walked up beside her, enclosing her in his arms. He glanced at his baby daughter, the lines of worry on his face smoothing as he watched her soft, angelic face.

"Ozorne…" Daine whispered, weeping gently into her husband's nightshirt. Numair's face darkened in an old hate that would never die.

"He's gone. We'll always be safe from him."

"I haven't had a nightmare like it for years…"

"Don't worry." Numair held her till her tears became quiet sniffs. By then she was exhausted by her crying, and she allowed the mage to carry her to bed and tuck her in. Dawn was not far off, but sleep bore her away nonetheless.

As the sun burst from behind the hills and bathed the Tortallan city in a copper glow, Daine woke quietly, kissed the deeply sleeping Sarra on the head (denying her husband a kiss for fear of his waking) and slunk from the bedchamber. She donned a tunic and riding skirt, and on top of that her travelling garments. She scrawled a note to Numair and quietly placed it by their bed:

_Don't be worried, Numair. I'm a little shaken from last night, and I'm going to see Barzha. Her home is half a day's ride, so I won't be gone all day. Take care of Sarra, I've taught you what to do if she cries. Love, Daine._

Sighing, the wildmage hurried to the stables and bade Silvereye, a mare they'd recently purchased, to be quiet. Cloud was standing in the stall opposite, scowling.

And what business will you be riding to? She asked, grumpy that Silvereye was being chosen over her. She'd never taken a liking to the mare.

I…I just need some advice from a friend, the wildmage replied, rubbing drowsiness from her eyes as she secured Silvereye's tack.

Silvereye, a bright, intelligent horse, obeyed her rider's wishes, muffling her trot. Once out of earshot of the Salmalin towers though, she quickened. She and Daine were soon lost in a current of traders and visitors to the city that washed through the city gates each morning.

"I love my home, but I _hate_ it when it gets that crowded." Daine shouted over the wind, as Silvereye galloped as fast as she could. The mare whinnied in agreement, joy on her voice; she loved to run. Tortall's crowded streets did not allow it.

The plains that lounged before the city succumbed to forest as Daine and Silvereye travelled further from the capital. The wildmage trusted her steed's instinct of direction. They needed to go straight west to reach the woodland where the Stone Tree nation lived, and had lived, since the Immortals' war.

Shortly before noon, the pair sighted the woodland for which they were destined for. Silvereye spooked a little when she scented the foul reek of Stormwing on the air, but Daine managed to coax her forward. They stopped before the fringe of trees, the wildmage tethering the mare in case she tried to bolt.

"I won't be long, I don't think. You're fine. These are nice Stormwings." She murmured to the agitated horse, stroking her muzzle.

An ominous clicking sounded nearby, and she turned in alarm. Once she recognised the Stormwing ahead of her though, she relaxed.

"Hebakh? You remember me?" She asked cautiously; her deep, instinctive fear of the half steel Immortals' could never fade.

The Stormwing peered at her, and dropped his guard. He managed a faint, near-friendliness smile.

"It's been a while. Why've you come now?"

"I'd like to talk with Queen Barzha, if she'll permit it."

Hebakh frowned momentarily. "I'll fetch her. I believe she's tending to a new egg."

"Congratulations." Daine offered; she knew how risky and how hard it was for Stormwings to produce offspring.

Hebakh nodded, and flew to above the tree canopy. Hopefully Barzha could see her soon. She didn't want to leave Numair and Sarra alone too long.

A starling alighted on a branch close to Daine, intrigued by her scent.

Are you People? It asked, with childlike curiosity.

No, I'm human, little bird. The wildmage replied. The starling looked confused, but shrugged its wings.

You live near the Stormwings, then? Are they good neighbours? Daine questioned.

They don't bother us. Quite polite, actually. Though I wish they'd do something about their smell.

Daine laughed.

Soon after, the familiar stench wafted through the trees. Two Stormwings came this time, one of them Barzha. The other watched from a distance, sullenly.

"Good morning, Queen Barzha." Daine bowed briefly.

"It's nice of you to visit-though you didn't come for small talk, I presume?"

"It's…something on my mind. Could we go somewhere private?"

Barzha glanced at her companion, and motioned to him. He glowered, but flew away.

"So, what needs to be discussed so badly that you ride miles for it?"

Daine swallowed, recalling her dream. She shuddered; it had felt so real.

"It's about Ozorne." The name cleaved the air and rang in both Immortal and human's ears. So many had died because of that one evil creature...

"What of him? He's been gone ten years now." Barzha disguised the effect his mention had on her.

"I had a dream about him last night."

"Dreams are dreams."

"I haven't dreamt of him for years."

Barzha digested this.

"To be honest I haven't either. Yet…"

"Yet what?"

Fear glimmered in the Stormwing's eyes suddenly.

"I dreamt of him last night too."

Silence hung like a smothering blanket.

"Last night? Him?" Daine breathed, her heart pounding. "Why?"

"I don't know. Perhaps the Dream God decided to play a trick on us."

"I came here to see if you felt his presence like I did. I was right."

Barzha nodded slowly.

"I can't help you, if you're looking for a way to investigate this."

"I know. Thanks for your time, Barzha. For our sakes, let's hope that last night was a coincidence."

The Stormwing watched Daine return to her steed, calming the fearful mare.

"Take care of yourself, Veralidaine Sarrasri, and your family too. I sense sorrow lingering."

Daine nodded, and raised a hand in goodbye.

"Ride, Silvereye!" She shouted, and the mare bore them back to Tortall in the bleakest of moods.


	4. Since His Demise

"Do you wish to know of what has changed since your absence, Lord Ozorne?" Yasir asked tentatively, as though he was creeping past a volcano.

Ozorne the Stormwing ignored him for a moment, drawing a steel wing against the rock wall of his cave. It produced an ear-screeching wail that caused the two men before him to flinch.

"Yes, I think I should like to know." He replied finally. "No doubt my enemies enjoyed my demise?"

"There were celebrations, sir. Peace." The Stormwing gritted his teeth. He hoped he could control his anger enough to listen to this.

"King Jonathan and Queen Thayet remain the rulers of Tortall. There has been a short war with the Scanrans, but it is over. King Maggur was overthrown."

"What of Carthak? What of my country?" Ozorne asked impatiently.

"Emperor Kaddar has ruled successfully since your demise, sir. Carthak prospers, and there has been a Slave Reform. There are no longer slaves in Carthak."

Ozorne could not control his temper anymore. He grabbed a rock and threw it with all his might. It struck Cothus on his shoulder, and the man cried out in pain. He clutched his motionless limb to his side, moaning softly. The Stormwing sneered and glared at Yasir to go on.

"Here in the Copper Isles, a _raka _queen has returned to the throne. Much of the _luarin _have left."

"I have never cared for Copper Isle politics. But, to what blood do you each belong to?"

"I am half _raka_, sir, Cothus is full _luarin_."

"Continue."

"The Yamani Islands have been peaceful since the Immortals' war-"

"I don't care for all this peace!" Ozorne cried. "I want to know about people! You know who I mean!"

"Oh…yes, sir, I apologise…" Yasir stammered. Cothus saw the need to take charge of the conversation.

"The Salmalins have enjoyed a harmonious life since your demise, sir. They married five months after the war, and ten months ago they had a child."

"A child?" Ozorne blinked, a hundred ideas of ways to go about his revenge blossoming in his mind.

"A daughter. They named her…Sarra, I believe."

The Stormwing spat a word that sounded very like 'slut'.

"We have little else in the way of information to offer you at this time-"

"_Why not?_" The Stormwing snapped, his face intent. "I need to know everything about the Salmalins! Get someone on the case!"

"Right away, sir. We have plenty of field agents to choose from." Yasir offered rapidly.

"_Now_."

* * *

Quietly Daine and Silvereye stole into the stables. The wildmage hoped dispiritedly that a miracle had occurred and that either Numair was unperturbed by her flight or did not notice her absence.

"I'm a fool to hope." She muttered as she hung up the mare's tack.

You're in for it, Cloud called triumphantly from her stall. The stork-man came in here earlier. He wasn't too happy.

Daine glowered at the pony, and headed across the courtyard. Her hand was reaching for the door bell when the door swung open. Numair stood there, a controlled lividness on his face. He held a bawling Sarra in his arm, the baby squirming from her father's grip.

"Daine," the mage rasped, exasperated. "I can't abide all this running about. I've got a ten month old who acts like I'm a complete stranger, and a wife who rides a hundred leagues because of a dream."

"Look, I'm sorry. I had to. Give Sarra to me." The wildmage beckoned, and received the irate baby into her arms. She stroked the baby's head and rocked her gently. Sarra soon stopped crying, and stared innocently at her mother.

"She looks fair hungry, poor thing."

"But you weren't there to feed her." Numair pointed out, as Daine entered the house.

"I can tell you've forgiven me already."

"Yes, but I was very worried about you-" He was silenced as Daine kissed him gently on the lips.

"I can take care of myself, thank you very much." The wildmage carried her daughter up the stairs, Numair sticking to her like a shadow. Once she had tucked the calmed baby into her cot, the mage took her by the waist and clutched her close to him.

"I don't like being separated from you," He murmured.

"I know." Daine replied, trying to think of anything but the face of Ozorne that haunted her mind.


	5. Spies

"Is there no other place for me to stay in? Must I spend my new life in this damp, sodden cave?" Ozorne snapped at Cothus. He shuffled his steel feathers in irritation and glared at the man.

"We apologise, sir, but we have no choice. We have been unable to find any remote dwellings, and to risk your being seen is to risk your life. Your enemies are as wrathful as they were ten years ago, sir. If they discover you are alive, they will kill you without haste." The Stormwing glowered in hate.

"I have no allies, none. I have only my own strength, and it is not enough."

"What do you wish to do, sir?" Cothus asked tentatively. Ozorne lowered his eyes to hide the bitterness in them.

"If I had what I had all those years ago, I would do what I failed to achieve then. But now I have nothing," He sighed quietly. "What do I wish to do? I wish to kill those who denied me my needs. I wish to kill those who made me fail. I wish to kill the one who ended it all."

Cothus gave an involuntary shudder when he saw the horrific gleam in Ozorne's eyes as he spoke this last sentence. He and Yasir had noticed on the night of the Rising that the Stormwing's chest and throat still retained scars from the final reckoning delivered by his killer. The whole realm knew it was Veralidaine Sarrasri, a young wildmage, who had slain him.

"Lord Ozorne?" A voice called out; Yasir's voice. The man walked out of the wall of darkness and into the cave.

"I have brought him."

A young man, similar in stature to Jas, the poor boy Ozorne had murdered, followed Yasir into the cave. He was putting on a good effort to force away the fear that clamoured to be shown on his face and in his eyes. He stared at the Stormwing.

Ozorne looked him up and down. His hair was cropped and brown, inconspicuous. His eyes were a light hazelnut that looked jumpy, as if they wanted to flit around their surroundings all the time, surveying every single aspect. He wore humble villager garments, and a calfskin shoulder bag hung from his shoulder.

"This boy here is the finest spy I can get hold of. He hasn't been very far, he's mostly dealt with petty detective cases, suspicious wives and husbands and all, but then again, he hasn't really been given a chance." Yasir offered a little praise.

Ozorne remained silent, still judging the nervous boy.

"Sir?" Yasir asked.

"If I employed you, would you swear loyalty to me?" The Stormwing asked haughtily.

"Yessir. It would be an honour to work for you."

Ozorne remained impassive, his mind a never ending system of calculation.

"Good. You will head to Tortall immediately."

* * *

"Just a spoonful of vervaine, please." Daine said to the apothecary shopkeeper, her nervous eyes darting around her.

"Salmalin doing another experiment, eh?" The shopkeeper made friendly talk as he spooned herb into a small pouch.

Daine nodded; she was a regular customer here, being her husband's errand runner when he was performing some arcane practice of magic.

A week had passed since the haunting dream of Ozorne. She had voiced her fears to Alanna, who lent a listening ear, though she could tell that the Lioness felt the same as Numair did: Ozorne was long gone, she was merely being paranoid.

After paying for the vervaine, Daine stepped back out onto the street, swallowed into the colourful crowd. Her nerves were taut, her mind shimmering in anxiety. She almost jumped in fear when someone pushed against her shoulder, and a feeling of breathlessness came over her. It was when she was nearing the uphill street that would lead her back to her towers that she noticed a familiar person in the crowd, one she strained to remember as being someone she'd seen on her way to the apothecary, and just as she'd left the shop. Instantly her heart began to pound quicker, and she tried not to stare. Instinct and common sense fought:

_He's following you._

_Don't be a fool. It's just coincidence. You're so paranoid!_

Nevertheless, when she skirted into a different street, away from the direction of home, she sighted the man again. With his brown hair and air of nonchalance, he appeared to her normal yet out of place at the same time. She ducked into a grocer's and proceeded to buy four apples, supplying herself with the explanation that she could give them to Cloud and Silvereye.

She glanced out of the window, and saw the man again. He wasn't looking her way. But he was still in the same place.

Waiting.

She forced her expression to remain blank as she left the shop, watching the man out of the corner of her eye. She soon lost sight of him in the crowds, but knew and sensed that he was always following.

Eventually she walked to her street, heading uphill for her home. When she risked a look behind, he was not there. This had been expected; this street was a quiet one, and he would have stuck out like a sore thumb.

Breathing relief, Daine shut the Salmalin gates behind her and crossed the courtyard. In her mind, she was already composing a letter to Baron George Cooper, Alanna's husband and the most experienced spy in the realm.

* * *

Can you take this to the Lioness' chamber? Daine asked, waving a sealed envelope in front of a crow that gazed at her from the windowsill.

You know where it is-you've done this before, the wildmage added hopefully. I'd appreciate so much if you could do it again.

Message? But, messenger must have special treat after, the crow replied. Daine grinned and nodded.

I'll have the finest dried fruits prepared for you when you return.

The crow cawed, and took the envelope firmly in its beak. It spread its wings and dived from the windowsill.

Daine sighed. Her letter would be given to Alanna, and then forwarded onto George:

_George, I'm in great need of your reputable services. I believe I'm being followed by a man when I go out. It's quite disturbing, and I'm worried. Could you put a spy to it, find out who and why this person is following me? I'll pay you even, if you'd like. Yours sincerely, Verilidaine._

"Goddess speed you, crow." Daine whispered, as she watched the bird fade into the sky.


	6. Not A Pawn

Cothus grunted in effort as he lugged a large crate into the cave. Lord Ozorne, fed up with his squalid home, had demanded certain things to soften the harshness of plain rock walls.

"Here…it…is, sir…" Cothus rasped. The Stormwing remained impassive, and so that man set about opening the crate. Out came illegally trapped animal skins, leather-bound books containing the realm's recent events, and a small mirror. There would have been food there, too, had the Rising spell worked properly, but because of Cothus and Yasir's inexperience, many of Ozorne's processes had not returned with him to life. He needed neither food nor water; though, perhaps this was a blessing to the Stormwing.

"Tell me, servant," Ozorne began, staring at the man. "I have been wondering, what purpose did you hope to achieve with me?"

Cothus started.

"Purpose, sir? Why, we returned your life to you so that we might have a strong, inspiring leader."

"That is not a reason." The Stormwing said through gritted teeth. His weak sense of patience was shrivelling up.

"But sir, surely a wise one such as yourself-"

"I'm not a weak minded fool to be sweet-talked by a petty servant like you." Ozorne's face was twisted in anger. He rose from his seat and glided towards the man.

"Please, sir, I-"

The Stormwing let his arm fly across Cothus' chest, and the man sprawled. Next, he bent down and took him in an iron grip at the neck and lifted him. Revived from his momentary paralysis, Cothus began to struggle against the vicious fingers tightening around his skin.

"Why am I here?" Ozorne demanded.

"We…sorry…sir…we needed…someone to…front…the rebellion against…" The words died away and the Stormwing relented his grip slightly.

"…The rebellion against…the _raka _queen…"

"I SERVE NO ONE!" Ozorne cried, throwing Cothus down. The man whimpered and dragged himself away from the Stormwing.

Ozorne watched him, and muttered the word 'pathetic'. He came forward and stooped over Cothus, who shook in fear. The Stormwing took a dagger from the man's belt sheath.

"Perhaps Yasir would prefer not having to work with a partner he does not trust, hm?"

"Please…I'll…"

"You tell Yasir, and all those behind him who hope that I may bend to their will, that I am a ruler, not a pawn." Ozorne threw the dagger so that it embedded itself in the wood of the crate. It shivered for a moment or two, then stilled.

"Yessir." Cothus murmured, getting to his feet. He loped away to the mouth of the cave, not daring to glance back. He swore he could feel a burning itch as the Stormwing stared broodingly at him, and once he was out of the cave his pace quickened.

So, their plans had backfired. Ozorne would not serve their purposes…they were stupid to think so! And now, they had unleashed a tyranny, albeit a weak tyranny, back on the world.

"What have we done, Yasir?" He muttered fearfully, as he stumbled down the hill in the fading light.


End file.
